The Tale of Two Trees
by neverbeenunloved
Summary: Aragorn goes to visit Legolas.


It was a beautiful spring day in the forest of Greenwood (formerly Mirkwood), and the sun shone gently through the forest canopy. Birds chirped and sang, the shadow of Sauron no longer oppressing the natural loveliness of the forest. Everywhere teemed with life, the entire forest lovingly nurtured and protected by the elves who called the woods home.

Such was the atmosphere that greeted the king of Gondor as he entered the forest on horseback, flanked by his royal guard. Wearing no kingly raiment and dressed in simple ranger tunic, Aragorn son of Arathorn smiled.

"Let me be, Ralfind," said the king softly, addressing the head of his guard. "I will be in no danger in this forest." Nodding, the captain and all his men paused, leaving the king to ride alone. "We will follow at a distance, my king," said Ralfind, slowing his horse to a walk.

Aragorn did not even show that he had heard his captain's reply. Instead, the king of Gondor rode faster, eager on spending what time he could spare from kingly duties with a certain Elf Prince. It was no secret throughout all human and elven realms in Middle-earth of the friendship that existed between the two, inseparable ever since the young Estel had met the Prince of then-Mirkwood in Imladris.

"_Ada_, his hair is gold," whispered the five-year old Estel wonderingly.

His brothers, father and himself stood on the threshold of the Last Homely House, waiting to welcome the much-awaited visitor from Mirkwood. Lord Elrond smiled fondly down at his adopted son. "Yes, Estel, it does look gold, does it not?"

From his father's left, Elladan, elder of the twins, guffawed. "Indeed, Ada. Some might even call him...beautiful." Despite his father's stern yet slightly amused look, Elrohir agreed. "Enough to make all the _elleth_ fall at his feet," he snickered. The Lord Elrond could only sigh.

"Why, do you know him, Dan?" asked Estel questioningly. "Know him!" exclaimed Elladan. "Of course we do! He is -"

He was cut off from saying more as the visiting elf walked forward and bowed at the bottom of the steps. "Lord Elrond."

Elrond smiled. "Welcome, Legolas. It has been too long."

Then in that moment, all formality shattered. The twins rushed forward and fell upon the hapless elf. "Aye, and that it has!" exclaimed the two in unison as they promptly started a wrestling match.

Estel could only look on at what he saw as a clearly unfair fight. Ever the diplomat, he wriggled out of his father's grasp and made his way down the stairs to the blur that was the three elves. "Dan! Ro!"

"What is it, _tîthen pen_?" asked Elladan breathlessly, while having pinned Legolas beneath him. "You're hurting him!" exclaimed Estel, aghast. "Estel, we were just..."

"No, get off him!" Running to the golden-haired elf, Estel pulled him up and started dusting him off. Legolas was at a loss for words and merely watched the young human.

"I apologise for my brothers." said the young boy with all the dignity he could muster. "Ada says that they are still irresponsible elflings!"

Elladan and Elrohir were struck silent, mouths agape. Legolas merely smiled and answered solemnly, his blue eyes twinkling as he looked down at his young savior and newfound accomplice. "That they are, young one, that they are."

Later that night in Imladris, everyone had gone to bed, but first of them all was the young Estel. Tired out from the festivities in honor of the Crown Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, the four-year-old had fallen asleep in Legolas' arms, his mouth slightly open and snoring softly. The prince had merely smiled gently and excused himself from the celebrations, beckoning to the twins to accompany him.

The three elves gently laid Estel on his bed and tucked him in, making sure that the boy was comfortable. Elrohir and Elladan stood at the foot of the bed, watching their foster brother and dear friend as Legolas sat beside the sleeping boy and stroked his hair.

"He likes you," remarked the elder twin softly. "Your charm is unbelievable, _mellon nîn_." Legolas smiled and rolled his eyes. "So young...does he know?"

"Of the broken sword? Of the line of kings? Of his destiny? Nay, not yet," Elrohir replied. "_Ada_ wants him to have as much of a normal childhood as possible."

"And you call this normal?" asked Legolas, raising his eyebrow but his hand never leaving Aragorn's head. "Mayhap it would be better for him to live amongst his kind...?"

"No!" both twins disagreed adamantly. Estel stirred in his bed.

Elrohir, the younger, more expressive twin was the first to speak. "He loves it here...already he knows the Sindarin tongue...and...and..."

"...and we love him." admitted Elladan, the elder. "Already we are starting to forget what Imladris was like before he came."

Legolas nodded, his eyes on the still sleeping boy. "I can understand," he whispered softly, his hand brushing away the stray black locks. "I think I'm starting to love him too."

So engrossed was Legolas with pondering this newfound bond, that he did not notice when the twins quietly slipped out of the room with knowing grins on their faces. The next day, Lord Elrond found them there, Legolas lying on the edge of the bed with Estel's chubby hand fisted in the elf's golden hair.

Aragorn shook his head fondly, a thousand memories rushing through his head. It was not long before he arrived at the decided meeting-place for the two, a clearing near a rushing stream. In the middle of the clearing, standing apart from all the other trees and directly where the sunlight hit, there was a single, lone tree.

Standing there, the elf was already waiting for him. "_Mae govannen_, Legolas," said the ranger. "I have missed you."

The elf said nothing, which was not strange in the least. Over the years, Aragorn had learned the intricate nuances of the elf's personality. Legolas did not speak unless absolutely necessary. He did not need to. Their friendship had reached the point where communication was not limited to words.

Aragorn dismounted, securing his horse. After he had finished, he walked toward his friend with a smile. Leaning and sliding back against the lone tree so that he was sitting on the ground, Aragorn lit his pipe.

"I know you hate the smell, _mellon nîn_...but you love me, don't you?" Aragorn chuckled. A gentle breeze blew through the trees, rustling their leaves and spreading the distinct scent of pipeweed. "You are looking extraordinarily beautiful today, Elf," Aragorn grinned, as the sun hit the thin leaves of the tree and still shone through, looking like glinting gold, much like the elven prince's golden blonde hair.

They sat like that for a while, each taking comfort in the other's presence. Aragorn did not mind; over the years, the pair had lapsed into many comfortable silences, sometimes because they were too tired, sometimes because there was simply nothing to say that had already been said.

"_Ai_, but I am getting old, _mellon nîn_...today Arwen spotted several gray hairs on my head. Eldarion teases me relentlessly about how slow I am getting. Yesterday he outshot me at the archery range, the young upstart! Twas merely a half-inch, I told him, but he would not listen! He reminds me of another archer I know, who used to use his dearest friends for target practice." Aragorn laughed, and immediately sobered again. "Eldarion…he will make a good king."

"It still amazes me, Legolas. Once, when I was young and foolish, I cursed the broken sword, cursed the line of Isildur and all that I was expected to become. But now, I have to keep myself from blinking again and again, trying to believe that all i have really exists right in front of me. I am blessed, _gwador nîn_. I have a family, a kingdom...and friends like you." Here Aragorn stood sorrowfully and stretched.

"I am dreadfully sorry, Legolas...but I only had a few hours. Trade meetings begin soon, and as much as I would like to skip them, I am not some irresponsible elf princeling who runs at the mere news of them," grinned Aragorn.

"But I am glad that it was a tree, not a marble shrine," Aragorn continued thoughtfully and gratefully, to no one in particular. "It would have looked wrong, somehow."

Lowering his voice, Aragorn whispered to his friend. "Goodbye for now, _gwador nîn_. Sleep and rest in peace. I love you. I shall see you soon."

At that moment, the leaves of said tree seemed to shudder and the branches bent down, as if Legolas had embraced his Estel from beyond the grave.

Bowing his head, Aragorn allowed the branches to touch the top of his head. A single tear trickled down his face.

With one last loving touch and a glance, Aragorn left the clearing and mounted his horse. Looking back at his friend one last time, the king smiled. "Till we meet again, _quel mellon nîn_."

As Aragorn rode slowly away from the clearing, the wind picked up.

/I shall see you soon, _quel mellon nîn_/ whispered the wind, and the King of Gondor tearfully smiled.

Soon is a different measure of time for the Firstborn, and so it is told still, in village lore and stories told to little children at the hearth. Aragorn son of Arathorn was the greatest of the kings of Gondor, and his death was mourned in all the land. King Elessar of the Elfstone they called him, and to commemorate him, there lies in the White City his marble shrine, his likeness engraved into the stone. No elves remained in Middle-earth at the time of his passing, save for his wife, Arwen Undomiel, she of the Evenstar and queen of Gondor. She bade for his body to be buried in the forest of Mirkwood, for it was the king's last wish.

The dwarves carried his body, followed by the procession of Men. Once in the forest, dwarf and man alike dug the grave for their king, covering him with the clean soil of Middle-earth. He that was raised by elves and was loved by elves till his dying day and even after...he deserved something more. Once his body had been laid to rest beside the lone golden-leaved tree in the clearing, his wife sang his lament. Hauntingly beautiful, it is said that the elvish words stirred something in the soil. When Arwen visited her husband's grave, a new tree had grown beside the slender goldleaf tree. It was tall and proud, and its grayish silver leafy branches (a wonder, for no one living in Middle-earth at that time had ever seen trees such as these) entwined with the golden ones beside it. And it is said that two trees grow there still, in the clearing beside the stream.

They say that if you listen carefully, you will hear the twanging of a bowstring and the ring of a sword being unsheathed. If you are lucky, they say that you will hear Elvish laughter from the treetops, tinkling like silver bells and answered by golden laughter and clip-clopping of a horse's hooves. So it is told, and the wisest of all say that even the rushing stream sings songs and ballads of the Elf and the Man, of great battles fought and won, friendship unbroken and brotherhood everlasting.


End file.
